"For the way that dog turns against anything in the shape of soap and water is pretty nigh human. Instink, they calls it."
Peters thought that muzzles were inhuman, and said that he would wash the dog himself. The first time he tried Tommy bit him in three places, and escaped before the operation was over. He bolted into the street, ran away, and never came back.
So Peters was quite alone. Mrs Marks was too busy to talk to him. Elsa did not come back. But the old plane tree did not seem to mind him.
As the years went on Peters found that he got old very quickly. One of the effects of age, in his case, was a violent pain in the chest, which came on after any great exertion or if he walked fast uphill. He went for a holiday—a week at Hunstanton—but it did not seem to do him much good. But when he came back he heard glorious news. Elsa was coming again for a few days.
"Now, I'm glad," said Peters. "I always liked the child. Such bright ways she had! We shall soon be playing cricket together again."
"Why, you forget, Mr Peters," said Mrs Marks. "Elsa's near seventeen now. Besides, you're too much of an invalid to think of running about. You've aged." Mrs Marks herself did not age; she was one of those hard, wiry women that are capable of looking forty for twenty years.
Elsa looked very pretty. She still wore her hair down, but her dresses were much longer. She had a very superior manner, and did not seem particularly glad to see Peters. She took one of the liquorice jujubes that he offered her. But she explained that she did not care about that sort now; she only liked the best chocolates. "You can't get them here. If you want to give me anything, Mr Peters, there's a blouse (two-and-eleven) in Higginson's window that would do me nicely."
He looked a little bewildered, but he bought her the blouse, and it did her very nicely indeed—so nicely that she thought it was a pity that she was not to be photographed in it. "We might be photographed together," she said alluringly; "I shouldn't want more than two copies—cabinets."
This was better. Peters was pleased that she wanted him to be photographed with her. The photographer placed her on a rustic stile, with Peters standing by her side. He smiled widely and with feeling, as he looked at her. She shook her head impatiently. "Oh, this won't do!" she said, "your grinning puts me out. Besides, you shake the stile. I wish you'd stand away and let me be done alone. Then you can have yourself took afterwards."